the merry chase
by controlled climb
Summary: A collection of 100-ish word drabbles for Arthur and Eames.
1. Chapter 1

Canon Compliant.

* * *

When Cobb says Arthur's on the job, Eames has to stop himself from breaking out into a grin.

Obviously, he's furious. Inception is a stupid and dangerous task to take on. Since when has Arthur been willing to take these risks? But mostly, he's just proud. His Arthur! Taking on dreamshare's very own mission impossible!

His Arthur of pressed suits and Windsor knots has, apparently, acquired a taste for the daring...the imaginative... It's almost too much to bear.

He's in. He's completely and utterly in. Sort of because he needs to make sure Arthur hasn't signed himself up for yet another of Cobb's life-endangering jobs, sort of because it's a damn interesting job regardless, but mostly because Arthur's branching out for the first time _ever_ and Eames can't wait to see Arthur dreaming just that little bit bigger.


	2. Chapter 2

Written for Schermionie's 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge.

* * *

Eames has always been adamant about his undying love for Arthur.

How could he not be? Arthur's the picture of perfection. He's gorgeous, smarter than anyone he knows, and blushes most prettily when Eames sends a wink his way. And they click! They fit so perfectly together. They can discuss obscure poetry and art and they laugh when Cobb rolls his eyes and mutters, "Pretentious bastards."

It all comes crashing down when he sees Arthur shoot a man between the eyes. It's not as if he's never seen Arthur kill before. Hell, it's not as if Eames himself has never killed before. It's just...it's just that this time, Arthur had been smiling.

_He'd liked it_.

And all of a sudden Eames realises that Arthur maybe likes Dickinson and Géricault a little too much and that maybe Arthur's killed out of more than necessity in the past.

His breathing goes shallow and he stares as Arthur calmly wipes his gun. Eames raises a shaky hand, gestures to the body on the ground and says, "God, Arthur. Fuck. I never knew. How could I not have known?"

"Known what?"

"I..." He trails off. "Nothing."

_I'm in love with a monster_.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur has a collection of famous artworks scattered in various rooms in various safe houses.

Oh, it's not what it sounds like. He didn't go on a stealing spree. He's not obsessed with art. Truthfully, he doesn't even like art that much. It's just...well, it's Eames' fault, really. After all, how could Arthur _not_ challenge him when he'd claimed that he could forge any painting in the world?

"Doubt me, darling?" Eames had asked in response to Arthur's unforgiving roll of the eyes. "Go on then. Pick a painting, any painting."

Arthur had forgotten all about it until he'd stumbled upon the perfect copy of Picasso's _Woman with a Guitar _in his flat in Brussels two months later. Since then, the whole thing had turned into a game. Arthur would request a painting—anything from Botticelli to Mondrian—and Eames would deliver.

A few weeks ago, Arthur had stopped playing the game. When Eames had asked what it was he'd like this time, he'd simply said, "An Eames. Not a Vermeer or a Matisse...an Eames."

He'd blushed from head to toe when he'd realised what he'd said. Although it was something he'd thought about for a few months, he'd never expected it to sound so god damn cheesy out loud.

That split second of embarrassment is worth it now. He's standing in his London flat and right in the middle of the room is a canvas. Arthur still doesn't know much about art and he couldn't describe the coloured splatters of paint if he tried. The only thing he knows is that it's like nothing he's ever seen before._  
_

The note attached says:_  
_

_Darling, I've always imagined you to be more partial to more traditional art, but I couldn't imagine painting you in any other way. — Eames_

When he looks at the painting, Arthur can't, in all honesty, say that he sees himself. On an intellectual level, he knows that this is him. This is how Eames sees him. But when Arthur looks at the painting he doesn't see himself...he sees something that he thinks looks a lot more like love than him.


End file.
